No Hope of Becoming a Memory
by Happy Stalker Ball
Summary: Kenny relates the events of the day to Stan while trying to remain sane. "One lives in the hope of becoming a memory." Antonio Porchia.


Birds chirped into the still silence of the afternoon. There had been some worry that birds might die out due to unsustainable living much as people had feared that the bees would be destroyed and the eco system of the planet would be thrown out of whack. It had been down to the line and some people were really freaking out, but as luck would have it, there are always a handful of geniuses living on the planet at the same time and they manage to hack out a plan to basically save the human race from itself. Those geniuses were never fully appreciated, not to the level they should be. The thought about the bees stayed in Kenny's mind as he sat quietly at a grave, plucking his lunch down beside him.

"Hey," he greeted the aged marble stone. Weather hadn't been too kind to this stone due to its placement, but due to the care it was given, it fared better than some others. He'd made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a small salad with grapes and strawberries. After he'd finish setting it up, he leaned back on his heels and grinned. "See? No animal products. I thought of you. I knew I'd be coming here today and thought of you." He glanced over at the last of the cars pulling out of the cemetery for the funeral he'd just attended. "She died the same day as you so I knew I'd stop by and see you after the ceremony ended. And I know how much you love animals." He grinned slightly and shook his head. "You'd like it now, though, it's harder to get those kinds of things that everyone used to always get without a thought, but it has helped stop tearing up the planet."

Stan had been the one to figure out how to help the bees. Granted, it had involved pestering the hell out of Kyle, who had eventually caved in. Stan had protested receiving the credit when the bees had been helped and eco system restored to a safe order again. Kyle, however, openly admitted that it was Stan's determination and drive is what had gotten them results. Kenny's grin widened when he read the "Bee Savior" inscription on the stone and he let out a bark of laughter. "Hah, that thing always cracks me up, dude. 'Bee Savior,'" he got out before having a giggle fit. "Everyone that knows you knows that you had a mad love for cows and whales and dolphins, but here you are, remembered as the bee savior. It's just too funny." He chewed on a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully, reliving some past moments, like when Stan had nervously and hesitantly accepted an award for his efforts from some scientist society that Kenny couldn't recall the name of. He just remembered his friend tugging at his tux and fidgeting with his bowtie.

He remembered Stan being forever annoyed with Cartman. Eric loved to tease Stan about being a "bee lover" and, his favorite phrase to greet Stan with, "Savior of the bees." Eric could always get a rise out him, too, asking when he was going to do some work for the other species of the world and didn't Stan know the difference between animals and insects? Stan would sometimes bite, becoming very similar to Kyle, trying to explain why the bees were so important to everyone on the planet, including animals, but Eric would always respond with sarcasm. Eric had long ago stopped being able to get rises out of Stan the way he could with Kyle, so when he discovered how much the subject heated Stan up, Eric just couldn't let it go. He relished every moment he was able to get a rise out of someone and, for whatever reason, if Stan or Kyle were involved, it just seemed to sweeten the moment. Kenny had always thought it was pretty funny. Getting a rise out of Kyle was almost too easy sometimes, so it was really fun when you could get one out of Stan, but you also knew that meant he was sensitive on the subject.

"Too bad those bees couldn't figure out a way to save you from that alcohol or depression, huh?" Kenny asked the stone. Stan was a functioning alcohol before they'd even graduated high school, too cynical for his own good despite attempts at otherwise; he also seemed to have a case of clinical depression. It was Kenny that finally was able to convince Stan to get some help. Kyle had practically begged in the past but had learned to just tune that part of Stan out, sometimes avoiding him just to not deal with it. Cartman either never knew or was unusually forgiving and didn't tease or put Stan down over it. Kenny had been on some loopy drugs he'd snagged from some crazy ex-con from New Mexico that had spent his last days hiding in the alleys of South Park, convinced the police were gonna haul his ass back to the desert. Whatever the guy had given him, it had really made him feel in tune with his emotions and turned on serious waterworks. The day before he'd visiting Stan and the guy had seemed to have spiraled into a longer depressed state than normal, only bothering to get out of bed and throw on some clothes when he showed up. Kenny had cried and accused him of planning to off himself off or spend his whole life wasting it and he only had one life to live! Kenny had even brought up how Stan wouldn't come back to life like _him_, on the unforgiving, eternal loop. Like he was in a game with an infinite amount of lives so if he messed up, he could just press "Start Over," but the others couldn't and Kenny couldn't press Start Over _for_ them, one they bit the dust, it was "Game Over," none of the endless replay Kenny found himself in. Stan had grown increasingly worried over his friend's state and after discovering the amount and how hard core the drugs had been, he had insisted Kenny stay until they wore off and made sure he ate and slept and didn't get himself killed, which was so sweet but funny to Kenny. He had tried to explain to Stan that none of it mattered, but his friend wouldn't hear of it, said that it mattered to him and that's all that really mattered. Kenny desperately wishes his friend would realize that was exactly how all Stan's friends felt about _him,_ about _Stan. _

"You did get better towards the end, though, didn't you?" Kenny smirked, remembering how excited Stan had been to go a whole day and then a whole week with alcohol, like he'd just ran a cross-country marathon. _Dude! I haven't drank in a week! I don't think that's happened since grade school! Crazy, isn't it, I can't believe I can still function. _Kenny had agreed it was crazy because someone would have to pry alcohol out of his cold, dead hands before he went a week without it and he had emphasized how that would _never_ happen, but, naturally, Kenny was the only one that understood his joke. Stan had been bouncing with excitement, about how he was going to go back to school and get his degree and help animals and change the world. And he did for the most part. He did a lot and he helped so much, and, still, here he was, the "Bee Savior." Not honored for all his veterinary work or his teaching or organized protests.

"I love you, man, your grave always makes me feel good, I like it more than the others 'cause I know you lived life and did what you wanted even if you did get depressed a lot. Least you didn't deny yourself anything or fool yourself into thinking the world was something it wasn't." Kenny swallowed another bite of his sandwich and felt tears prick at the back of his eyes; he quickly blinked and looked away from the grave for a quick moment, embarrassed as if Stan was actually there watching. "I miss you a lot. When I heard she'd died the other day, man, my heart dropped. She died in a wreck, too. Sound familiar? That really sucked, man. If only that asshole hadn't been so damn drunk and driving like a total retard." Shaking his head, Kenny grabbed his salad and stabbed at the dark leafy greens madly with his fork. "But you know, I couldn't hate him and I know you'd driven drunk more than once, it just- it sucks, sucks so much." Unbidden memories of Stan in the hospital sprung to his mind, hooked up to tubes, sometimes doctors and nurses crowding him, sometimes no one in the room but Stan and tubes and a friend or family member. Kyle sitting in the waiting room, looking positively traumatized. He'd been in the car, too, but only sustained minor injuries. Most of the bloodstains on his clothes had been his friend's and not his own. Kenny knew Kyle had nightmares for weeks, months, and possibly years afterwards.

"Weird how shit like that happens, huh? Like we all know it could happen and it happens to so many all the time, but until it happens to you or someone close to you, you never really can understand on that level, you know? Like experience always brings you to a new level but it's not a level you sometimes wanna go to, but you can't leave it once you're there. Can't un-experience something, trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

Wind swept through and mussed Kenny's hair. He put his salad bowl down and shook his head, almost in awe at the grave. "Man, I can't believe I put you in the ground with the others. Seems like it just happened. Wish you coulda stuck around longer, you missed some fun times, but we always thought of you, you know? We never ate animals when we got together and I think Cartman gave up meat even when we weren't together and that says a lot there."

He stood up and closed the gap between him and the stone, leaning on it like he would have Stan's shoulder in life. "This girl, she was young. Younger than you even, not that you were super young, but you know, you weren't exactly old or even middle aged yet, dude. This girl, she was in high school. Fuckin high school, that's sad as shit right there." He let out a long drawn out sigh. "It's like the older you get, the more depressing it gets when the young ones start dropping around you and then you got old people all weepy as hell over it." He dug a cigarette out of his pocket along with lighter and glanced down at the stone. "I know you'd be madder if I didn't than if I did." He took a long drag of the cigarette allowing the nicotine to feel his nostrils and mouth, relishing the familiar smell. "Remember when I used to bum cigs from you all the time, I miss that. Man, Kyle hated us both though, smoking, too much of a prude to join in." Kenny gave a slight shake of his head in remembrance. He'd really loved smoking with Stan, he hadn't realized how much until that option was taken away from him, now they were just fond memories. He was glad he had lived in the moment with Stan, though, made the memories something to be fond of.

A few more drags and Kenny found himself lighting up another cigarette. "Jesus, dude, that funeral was awful. The girl had really young siblings and her parents weren't too much older than you when you passed. It was awful, you'd think I'd just be numb but it's like it just gets worse and worse and it always makes me think of you or one of the others." Exhaling smoke, he listened to the birds, which was the only vocal response he was getting or ever really got from these conversations. "Sometimes, I think you're reincarnated as a bird, man, like there's always birds around here and one follows me everywhere and I always secretly hope it's you in spirit form or something ridiculous. It makes me feel good, though."

Another glance at the freshly dug grave and Kenny began to feel the loose grip he had on sanity start to escape him yet again. Wildness began to sparkle in his eyes accompanies with disbelief, confusion, and desperation. "I don't remember which grandkid that was, Stan. I think she was my sister's 8 or 9th generation grandkid, dude, I don't even know anymore. She gave birth to me a couple times, freaked her right the hell out. Can't blame them," he mumbled around his cigarette, disbelief coloring his words. "I mean, it would freak anyone out, those poor girls. Do you remember years back when I came out here? All the others were gone, too, so maybe it wasn't that long ago but the grandkid from today hadn't been born yet. Karennah, I think was her name, hell if I don't get them mixed up anymore. But one of them was so freaked out after a few times, they killed themselves, it's happened twice, actually, talk about a guilt trip. Not like I can help it, I don't choose that and they usually forget or just find a way to deal with it."

Fingers trembled and the cigarette fell to the ground, Kenny promptly stomped it out, followed by the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, until Kenny came to the last one in the pack. "Hah, down to the last one. Guess I better be careful, I might kill myself with these things," hollow laughter filled the cemetery as Kenny worked to keep from shooting straight into delirium. All but his sister's first granddaughter had gotten the experience of giving birth to him once his own mother passed away. Most were understandably terrified of him, a few were curious and those were the worst because right when they were getting used to each other and Kenny wasn't feeling like a huge burden to them, they would tend to die, a couple of age and a couple just by random accidents. The worst ones were the ones that hated him and made it be known because Kenny felt extreme guilt when he did die and he had gone out of his way with several of them to cause them as little headache as possible, but sometimes you just don't know when you're gonna die. At some point, he'd even become a hermit in his own house for near fifteen years when some freak blizzard totally blew the house down and he was crushed in the rubble.

"That's what sucks the most, Stan. I always thought it would be living forever and no one knowing. But it's these girls that do know or have some idea and having to give birth to me, I mean, it's already freaky as shit and who wants to wake up at night giving birth to someone they don't even know about? I'm basically a boogie man curse to all my great nieces, kinda sad, you know?" It was getting harder to support himself and he put all his weight on the marble stone, barely able to hold himself up, feeling so much heavier than he had earlier. "It sucks almost as much as not being able to really talk to you. Or Kyle. Or Craig. Bebe. Cartman, shit, that guy lasted until he was one hundred and TWELVE. I feel like he didn't die that long ago and that was sad. I thought maybe he'd somehow figured out a way to be immortal. Kinda wish he had or you had or someone that I really knew, you know? He knew I couldn't die. You know what that asshole's last words to me were? 'Well, who're you gonna talk to now, Kinneh?'" Kenny drawled out an exact imitation of Eric. "He was straight up Cartman to the end. It was crazy. I miss his crazy ass. Kyle's, too. He made it to the nineties, you know, I always thought for sure he'd die early with how sick he always was."

His eyelids were starting to feel too heavy to keep open and his voice was getting weary and quieter as he talked to the emptiness that surrounded him. "They say your forties and sixties are your best years, not the high school years crap they try to feed high schoolers while you're there and I know they do 'cause I worked there for awhile. Man, I wish you could have made it to those years, you know. Wish that girl would've made it past twenty at least. I wish Craig hadn't gotten so drunk that day and I wish he wouldn't have... always an asshole in every aspect, but I miss him so much." Words trailed off and Kenny mumbled some more about how he missed Bebe and Wendy and the girls and the other guys like even Clyde and Pip and everyone.

Finally as his more vibrant memories of all his friends and family from when he felt he was halfway normal faded into people that were born from Karen's granddaughter and so on and didn't know him and he didn't care to get to know them, he felt a sense of panic come over him. "What if this goes on forever? What if five hundred years from now, I'm still talking to your grave, to a childhood friend that didn't even live to forty but I'll be six, seven hundred, I don't know. Where the hell is that mint berry crunch guy? I mean, I can't be the only immortal around here, but, Stan, I can't find anyone else like me around here. Or anywhere because I have left South Park more than once, but I always wind up back and it's such a pain in my ass. I really, really miss you. So much."

He turned and slid to the ground, black slumped up against the marble stone. The heaviness became too much for his body to take and he dozed off into a fitful sleep. In it, images of Stan in the hospital popped up. That hospital had been torn down now. Stan arguing passionately with others over animals' rights and, of course, the importance of bees. Stan offering a beer or cigarette and grinning madly when he was able to say no to an offered beer. Kyle slumped at this same grave, crying his eyes out. Kyle asking Kenny to help out with Stan, Kyle throwing Kenny his 50th birthday party. Bebe asking how Kenny never seemed to age, Bebe always willing to jump into the newest scheme one of the guys had thought of, Wendy yelling and screaming at them and almost always siding with Stan on animal right issues, two peas in a pod. Cartman actually looking shaken up at Stan's funeral, looking pissed at Kyle's, laughing at Wendy's, that asshole, and shocked that Bebe had lived longer than Kyle. Cartman had also been ticked with Craig for everything he'd done, it wasn't enough to accidentally kill Stan but then off himself less than a year later. Then there was Karen announcing her engagement and then wedding and then there were baby showers and more kids. Kenny had loved being an uncle almost as much as he loved being a brother. He was glad his first niece didn't experience any terror of him and neither did his great niece. It was the one after that, after his mom had finally died. He was grateful she'd stayed alive for so long. His life had seemed semi-normal when it was his own mother rebirthing him and she had gotten herself into the situation so Kenny hadn't felt much guilt. Now, though, it was hard not to feel guilt especially when there was a pair of terrified eyes trained watching your every move and they always looked so similar to Karen's, it killed him sometimes.

Something soft was nudging him. Cracking his eye open, he realized it was no longer light out, only darkness greeted him. His back was cold from the stone it was still pressed against and a light sprinkle had started to fall from some dark clouds. Kenny looked down at his hand. One of the chirping birds from earlier chirped and rubbed its feathers against his fingers and then preened itself. When Kenny didn't respond, the bird repeated its actions.

"Stan?"

Kenny felt like he was in the hospital again like all those years before, asking for his friend and his friend wasn't there. But, now, his friend had no choice. He certainly couldn't expect Stan to move time and space for him just to give him some reassurance that everything would be okay. Kenny would laugh at that anyway. The bird chirped again and started to tweet a pretty song. "Yeah, I like that song, it's a good one, glad you remember," he was aware he was becoming slightly unhinged at the grave and should probably make a hasty retreat from the cemetery as it was sapping up the last bits of sanity he'd managed to retain over the years. "Come on, Stan, let's go home."

The bird looked right at him and, all logic and science be damned, because maybe that bird really liked him, thought its name was Stan, or _was_ Stan in spirit, because it followed Kenny home and stayed close to him until it died.


End file.
